


to sprout, to bloom

by Spacedog



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Growth, Large Cock, M/M, Service Top, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacedog/pseuds/Spacedog
Summary: Per the Fates’ decree,The Prince of the Underworld will have free reign only over the domain of his divine birth and divine blood. Zagreus is clever, despite his warm-hearted optimism so often read as foolishness—clever enough to recognize that divine blood, in fact, also includes the part of his pedigree from Olympus.All cleverness aside, making it to the mountain of his kin seems to ignite Zagreus’s Olympian blood in ways not entirely expected. Unexpected, but not in the least unwanted.(or: zagreus hits a growth spurt. thanatos copes.)
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 251





	to sprout, to bloom

Though mortals and their kind have long considered the dictates of the Fates to be inflexible, concrete, paths that their brief lives are compelled to follow, immortals—blessed with the kind of foresight that only those insulated from human uncertainty can have—know that prophecy is more about reading between the lines than anything.

And Zagreus, professional voider-of-contracts and rebel against the Fates, knows reading between the lines very well. Well enough, in fact, to figure out a way to get himself to Olympus.

Per the Fates’ decree, _The Prince of the Underworld will have free reign only over the domain of his divine birth and divine blood._

Zagreus, sharp as he is ferocious, quickly realized that this dictate could not stop him. Because despite his recklessness, despite his warm-hearted optimism so often read as foolishness, Zagreus is clever.

Clever enough to recognize that _divine blood,_ in fact, also includes the part of his pedigree from Olympus.

Testing this theory—and the bounds of the Fates’ authority—was simple. All it involved was accompanying his mother to Olympus to spend a season up on the mountain. There was no harm in trying, he’d told his curious mother. It would help him grow his godly abilities, he’d told his skeptical father. 

“And besides,” he told an ever-anxious Thanatos, “What’s the worst thing that could happen? I’ll _die?_ ”

Thanatos couldn’t debate that.

And so, Death watched his love, his prince, his best friend, leave home, not for the first time. Not forever. Not for more than a season.

But not painlessly for Thanatos, even, still. 

\---

As promised, Zagreus returns after a season, ferried down the River Styx not as a captive to his own destiny, but as a passenger on Charon’s noble ferry. As soon as they’re close enough to shore, Zagreus practically leaps out of the boat, bounding towards Thanatos like he’s returned home from a long, harrowing war.

“Than,” Zagreus laughs, throwing his arms around his beloved. He is warm and bright and brilliant, and—

“ _Taller_ ,” Thanatos blurts out, and though few might be able to discern the subtle shifts in his speech, to Thanatos, his own voice sounds strained and high-pitched, like a mouse squeaking. “You’re _taller._ ”

Except that’s not the extent of it, not exactly. Zagreus is taller, yes, but it’s more that he’s filled out, if only slightly—shoulders looking just a little broader, thighs looking just a little thicker. It would be easy enough to overlook.

Easy enough for anyone but Thanatos, anyway. 

“Oh?” Zagreus asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Must be all that sun,” Persephone says, fond as ever. “I’ve noticed it too. You’ve shot up, just like—oh, what is it that your grandmother calls you? _Little Sprout?”_

“ _Mother,_ ” Zagreus says, a blush coloring his features. The Queen Mother takes that as license to pinch her son’s cheeks, playful—more playful than anyone has ever been in the Kingdom of the Dead, at least in Thanatos’s long memory, anyway.

“I’m teasing, Zagreus,” she says, and Zagreus just smiles at her, beaming that ever-bright smile as pats his broad forearm.

It should warm his heart, seeing Zagreus and his mother clearly having grown just that much closer in their time on Olympus together. Thanatos _knows_ he should be focused on how happy his beloved is, on the fact that his tenure in Olympus seems to have gone well, on the fact that he’s returned from Olympus at all.

Except all he can think about is how _Zagreus is bigger._

The thought consumes Thanatos so thoroughly that he nearly doesn’t notice Megara sidle up to him, her body language collected, but coy. “You don’t usually wear your heart on your sleeve, Thanatos. Or, well. If not your heart, that other vital organ that Zagreus seems to have such sway over.”

“I—I’m just—surprised, is all,” Thanatos says. He is shocked at how _dry_ his mouth feels, once he actually begins speaking. “I find it strange, those of you who just—grow _like that_.”

It’s not a complete lie. After all, Thanatos _did_ go from godling to full-fledged God of Death much in the same way his lepidopteran aspects come into adulthood—by cocooning in darkness for a couple hundred years and rearranging himself from the primordial soup of his very divine constitution. But _not a complete lie_ masks the truth: that Thanatos is _obsessed_ with Zagreus’s recent growth spurt, by what it could possibly mean for the both of them, for what it could lead to _._

“You can tell yourself that, if you wish,” is what Meg says in reply, knowing Thanatos’s weaknesses, his tells, the places where the veil of his stoicism goes thin. For the first time, Thanatos realizes how his cheeks burn, and frantically, he puts up his hood, hoping that it will distract any bystanders or witnesses or members of the royal family from his current crisis. All it does is earn a little chuckle from Meg, as she leans in, as if to tell him a secret.

“You know,” Meg whispers, grinning against the shell of his ear. "Persephone is a fertility god. Now that he’s coming into his divinity, maybe we’re about to find out if she’s passed that aspect of her domain on to her son.”

At that, Thanatos, God of Gentle Death, nearly chokes.

\---

When Zagreus returns from Olympus after his second season above-ground, he is taller still, broader still.

It sends Thanatos into his own kinds of quiet panic, still. 

“He’s of Olympian blood, child. You report directly to Lord Hades, quite regularly, in fact, and you are intimately familiar with the God of War,” Mother Nyx says, one day-or-night, when Thanatos cautiously broaches the subject with her. “It should be no surprise that Zagreus has taken to Olympus much like a flower awaiting the sun.”

“You’re right, Mother. It shouldn’t be a surprise to me, no. But even still, I cannot seem to reconcile that knowledge with the Zagreus I’ve come to know,” Thanatos replies, frowning at nothing in particular.

Nyx is quiet for a moment, taking in Thanatos’s expression closely, as if he is a scrying pool, as if in his eyes, she will find just the signs she needs to read him, to know him. “This does not put a strain on your relationship, does it?”

“No, mother,” Thanatos says, glancing Zagreus out of the corner of his eye. Death does not mistake the way his prince’s broad shoulders shift beneath his chiton as he speaks, nor the ripple of his muscular arms as he gesticulates wildly, recounting some charming little story from this most recent holiday from their shared realm. “Not in the least.”

\---

And it doesn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. True to Meg’s suspicions, Zagreus’s Olympian blood seems to have ignited with his regular trips to the mountain of his kin. 

Whether Zagreus inherited Queen Persephone’s role as fertility god or not remains unclear. But from just how _often_ Zagreus is pulling Thanatos into his bed, from how he’s made it a habit to push Thanatos to the precipice of exhaustion, even from how his cock has grown along with the rest of him, there is _something_ to be said about Zagreus’s increasingly-insatiable sexual appetite being tied to his blooming godhood. 

So, no. There is no strain on Zagreus and Thanatos’s relationship.

Except.

“He won’t fuck me,” Thanatos grumbles, resisting the urge to slump face-first onto the lounge table, if only barely.

“ _Please._ Spare us the false misery,” Meg all but laughs. She doesn’t often bear resemblance to her sisters, but for a moment, Thanatos could hear echoes of Alecto in her tone, in her demeanor. “The entire House has heard you two having sex, Thanatos. It’s practically part of the initiation for incoming shades at this point. Sign in with Hypnos, learn where your soul will reside, then bear witness to Death and the Prince of Hell conjugating their _inexorably-drawn_ bond.” 

Thanatos’s frown manages to deepen, somehow. “I didn’t say we’re not having sex. I said _he won’t fuck me._ ”

The shade Achilles, for what it’s worth, looks to have _some_ sympathy for Thanatos’s plight. “Ah. Well. That _would_ put a damper on things, wouldn’t it?”

Thanatos simply grunts in response, taking the moment to crunch on some ice from the glass of nectar he’d rather quickly drained. 

“A suggestion, Death,” says Achilles, after watching Thanatos wallow in his misery for some time. “Might our prince be operating from the perspective of being courteous? Or respecting you, even?”

“What do you mean?” Thanatos asks. _Courteous for what? Respecting what?_ How could leaving Thanatos so full of so much raw, aching _want_ be considered either of those things?

“What I meant to say is, Zagreus might be operating from the presumption that the changes he’s been going through have also changed the terms of your relationship. That some aspects of, ah— _physicality_ —are off-limits, now.”

Thanatos blinks. Achilles’s reasoning seems to make everything click together.

Zagreus is, indeed, considerate. He’s kind. He’s too thoughtful, too generous, too _full of love,_ to ever risk hurting Thanatos. Especially after all the heartache that it took for the two of them to get together in the first place. But sometimes, as seems to be the case here, Zagreus’s deep sense of _care_ butts up directly against Thanatos’s needs, his desires.

For what’s the point of an Olympian-sized boyfriend if Thanatos can’t be _filled?_

\---

It isn’t long after that conversation in the lounge that Thanatos finds himself straddling Zagreus’s lap, kissing his prince like they are lovers reunited, or lovers to be scattered far apart. There is a palpable heat in their kiss, one amplified by the feeling of Zagreus’s hands bracketed against Thanatos’s waist, and all Thanatos can think about Zagreus, blooming into godhood and built like a budding Olympian—not nearly as large as his father, not even as large as Ares, but towering head and shoulders above Thanatos, even still—pinning him down by the hips and fucking him mindless. 

“Zagreus,” Thanatos breathes, breaking their kiss, admiring, ever-briefly, the way that Zagreus’s broad chest heaves with shallow breaths that the both of them know he does not need to take. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Anything, Than,” Zagreus says, tone eager and full of heartfelt dedication. He sounds as if he would tear the whole realm apart, if only Thanatos were to ask.

It’s encouraging.

“I’ve yet to take advantage of this new body of yours. Or rather, you’ve yet to use this new body of yours to take your fair share of _me_ ,” Thanatos murmurs against Zagreus’s ear. “Why don’t we work on changing that, then?”

“I—” Zagreus starts. He’s blushing from his chest to the very tips of his ears, and Thanatos can feel Zagreus’s cock twitch beneath him. But there is worry there, uncertainty there, one that Thanatos is unwilling to do anything with but confront. 

“ _Zagreus_ ,” Thanatos says, voice tinged with encouragement and seriousness in equal measures.

“I didn’t want—” Zagreus starts, and for all he has grown, he looks so _cute_ when he is embarrassed like this. “I—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Thanatos sighs. He’s not frustrated, really. He’s not. But there’s _one_ thing he wants, and it is so, so _close_. And if the fear of inflicting a little pain is what’s stopping Zagreus from fucking Thanatos stupid, then he’s willing to be as mean as he has to be to loose that idea from where it has lodged itself in Zagreus’s head. “Zagreus. We’re _gods._ I’m the _God of Death._ You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Than—” Zagreus starts, but he does not get a chance to finish, for Thanatos pulls him in by the chiton, closing that shallow, inch-deep distance between them, pressing their foreheads together with all the loaded promise of rams knocking horns.

“I know what I want, Prince,” Thanatos says, eyes never leaving Zagreus’s. “And what I want hasn’t changed since before you started spending seasons up in Olympus. I want you, Zagreus. _All of you_.”

Fistful of Zagreus’s chiton in hand, Thanatos shoves his beloved back just enough to tilt his chin up at him, gauntlet thrown and a decision needing to be made.

For a moment, the Prince of the Underworld looks conflicted, eyebrows knit together but pupils blown wide. As if he cannot bear to look at his beloved, he darts his gaze away, all the natural confidence that comes with his royal bearing faltering under the weight of Thanatos’s full-throated challenge. And for a moment, still, Thanatos thinks that Zagreus will flat-out refuse him.

But then he sighs, and when he looks back at Thanatos, Zagreus is biting his lower lip, _hunger_ telegraphed clear as can be on his handsome, familiar features.

“Okay,” Zagreus says, and before he can back down, before he even has a chance to _consider_ changing his mind, Thanatos is on him, kissing him again, even sloppier this time, even headier, even more desperate. He guides Zagreus down, deeper into that much-larger bed that the both of them commissioned to accommodate for the prince’s new size. Lovingly, Zagreus strips Thanatos of his clothing, and Thanatos does the same, groping the swell of Zagreus’s newfound muscle in his glutes, in his thighs. 

Looking up at him, all broad muscle and unparalleled gentleness, for a moment, Thanatos is hit by an overwhelming feeling of fondness, of adoration, of love.

And then Zagreus pulls him into another desperate kiss, and Thanatos feels that burning, aching need overwhelm him once again. 

Zagreus grabs a bottle of nectar from somewhere on the shelf behind his headboard, and he uncorks it with his teeth, dribbling the thick, honeylike liquid onto his fingers in an obscene little show that makes Thanatos’s breath hitch. His touch is gentle as he teases his index finger into Thanatos’s hole, and it is nearly infuriating in his caution. But Zagreus knows Thanatos, perhaps knows him better than he knows himself, and just as Thanatos is about to rush him along, he pushes another finger into him, slick and precise and so, so _much._

“How is that?” Zagreus asks, the pads of his fingers glancing along those tender spots that make Thanatos fall apart.

“More,” Thanatos gasps, writhing against his prince’s touch. Zagreus, dedicated lover as he is, does as he is told, crooking his fingers inside of Thanatos and dragging slowly, slowly against Thanatos’s insides as he pulls out, only adding a third digit when Thanatos is pliant and nearly begging for it.

Even Zagreus’s fingers alone feel like they can barely fit. Thanatos feels his heart thrum a desperate beat against his ribcage as he imagines just what Zagreus’s cock will feel like breaching him, filling him, _breaking him._

“Please,” Thanatos murmurs, and Zagreus nods, a little shakily, swallowing hard as he does. It’s exhilarating for Thanatos to see his prince just as eager, just as desperate for this as _he_ is. With the honeyed liquid covering him in thick, messy drips, Zagreus slicks his hard cock with the remaining nectar, stroking his considerable length from root to tip, not once breaking eye contact with Thanatos as he does.

Watching Zagreus touch himself like that, all suspended heat and power and barely-controlled anticipation, makes Thanatos _burn._ He wants his prince. He wants him like no being—mortal or god—has ever wanted anyone else ever before. Thanatos lets a low noise escape his throat—not a whine, exactly, but something like encouragement, like hunger, singing the same notes as desperation.

After what feels like the passing of a primordial eternity, Zagreus shifts, one hand anchoring Thanatos down, his calloused fingers burning deep into the sharp angles of Thanatos’s hip. He presses the heavy tip of his cock against his beloved, godly heat radiating from it as he finally, _finally,_ breaches Thanatos’s hole, sending a spark of perverse pain and undeniable pleasure shooting up Thanatos’s spine.

“ _Fuck—”_ Thanatos hisses, the word coming out like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him.

“Easy,” Zagreus all but whispers, his breath hot against Thanatos’s skin as he enters him, slow, achingly slow. He’s so, so much bigger than the last time they’ve done this, since the last time he’d fucked Thanatos senseless. He’s almost too much to take. Hardly more than the tip, and Thanatos already feels himself fraying, breaths going shallow and vision going white at the edges.

“Zag— _Zagreus_ ,” Thanatos gasps, desperately, and in worried response, his beloved stills, angling to start pulling out. He is stopped only by Thanatos grabbing him by the laurels, almost feral as he does, wrenching him in closer, even closer, still. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop. I can take it.”

“Yeah,” is all the prince says, the warm, low murmur of his voice making Thanatos’s knees tremble. Zagreus moves again, slow as before, those kind, familiar eyes fixed to Thanatos’s face, care only rivaled by a clear, burning _hunger._

“ _Gods,_ ” Thanatos groans as Zagreus pushes into him, filling him, bringing him near-to-breaking. A low groan escapes the prince’s throat when he bottoms out, and it sets Thanatos’s whole body ablaze, burning with that all-consuming, delightful pain of being _filled_.

“Tell me where you’re at, Than,” Zagreus says, slowly, slowly pulling back again, building up a gentle, steady rhythm as cautious, as infuriating, as possible. Thanatos’s head is in Elysium, he thinks, or at least, the equivalent of it. He feels overstimulated and overwhelmed and amazing, all at once. Every move that Zagreus makes already makes Thanatos feel like he’s careening towards the edge, and they’ve only barely just begun.

It’s maybe more than he’s ever taken before. It’s so much. _Zagreus_ is so much.

And even still, it’s not enough. 

“More,” Thanatos growls, the words spilling out of him sloppily, in such stark contrast to his usual precision and self-awareness and care. It is not a request. Even with his eyes half-lidded in already-fucked-out bliss, Thanatos catches Zagreus’s gaze, conveying the depth of his command with a _look._ “I know you can do more. Don’t hold back.”

Thanatos can see Zagreus faltering, if only ever-so-obriefly. It couldn't have been more than a moment, more than the miniscule passing of a bated breath, but to Thanatos, it feels like a tortured eternity. He does not break eye contact with Zagreus, does not even so much as move, but he can feel himself struggling, his desire surging, ready to overwhelm him, to overwhelm the both of them, at any moment.

“As you wish, love,” Zagreus eventually murmurs in response, bringing one hand up to gently, lovingly caress Thanatos’s face. “You tell me if it ever gets to be too much, okay?”

Knowing that Zagreus won’t continue until Thanatos has confirmed for the hundredth time that _yes, he really wants this,_ Thanatos nods, biting back the mean urge to tell his beloved to _just split him in half, already._

To that, Zagreus just nods, too, and Thanatos barely has time to adjust before Zagreus pushes back into him again, quicker this time, plunging his full length into Thanatos, sending a shock of feeling exploding through Thanatos’s body. 

“Fuck,” Thanatos gasps, blinking back tears formed from the incredible magnitude of what Zagreus was quickly drawing out of him. “ _Fuck._ ”

With a ferocity that only hot-blooded Olympians and their kin can possess, Zagreus fucks Thanatos unrelentingly, gripping Thanatos’s narrow hips so tightly that for a moment, Thanatos thinks he might shatter under his touch. Already overwhelmed by his lover’s early, gingerly, delicate approaches, Thanatos finds himself completely unprepared for the sheer intensity of feeling that fills him as Zagreus fucks him now in earnest. His cock leaks precum achingly against his stomach as he is filled, as he is over-filled, every inch of him tense with the pleasure of taking all that Zagreus has, of taking every single inch of him, of being stretched and fucked and _spoiled_.

“ _Fuck—_ ” Thanatos groans, as if it’s the only thing he knows. The God of Gentle Death has lost all his pretty words, all his capacity for anything other than a series of half-breathed-out curses and even less-articulate little moans and gasps and whimpers. Zagreus fucks Thanatos like he’s unmaking him, taking him past the precipice of his own being. The feeling of Zagreus’s huge cock inside of him his has unspooled Thanatos, rearranging the very primordial matter of his inner being with every thrust, leaving him nothing but the overwhelming heat pooling quickly in his lower abdomen.

“ _Thanatos_ ,” Zagreus moans, and hearing Zagreus call out his name in that low, rough voice sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through Thanatos’s whole body, clutching him by his core and leaving his cock _aching_. “You feel so _good_ , Thanatos. You’re perfect, you’re immaculate, I—I think I was _made_ for you, Thanatos—”

Zagreus’s words of adoration wash over Thanatos like he’s caught in a firestorm, and he feels his entire body _burn._ He’s close. He’s so, _so_ goddamn close. Thanatos can feel his own impending orgasm overwhelming him, ruining him, edging nearer and nearer to his own gentle end with each one of Zagreus’s relentless thrusts.

Through the wildfire-haze of his building orgasm, Thanatos feels Zagreus lift him, moving Thanatos by the hips so he can better rut Thanatos against that big, thick cock of his. As he looks at Thanatos with the utmost devotion in his eyes, Zagreus fucks Thanatos like he is just a hole to be filled, just a means to an end, just a little bit of immortal heat to be wrung-out and used _._

And it snaps what last remaining shred of resolve that Thanatos found himself clinging to, sending him freefalling into his own oblivion.

Thanatos comes harder than he’d ever come before, hot spend painting his stomach and a half-shouted, half-gasped “ _Zag—!”_ wrenching itself out from some deep, untamed place within him. Zagreus is murmuring gentle, loving encouragements to him all the while, words that Thanatos cannot process, not when his mind is floating far beyond the Olympian air, and thousands of unnamed constellations dance behind his eyes.

The God of Gentle Death can barely feel anything in his post-orgasm haze, vaguely registering Zagreus moving him, using him, chasing his own well-earned orgasm through Thanatos. After a few more powerful thrusts, Zagreus tenses, and he comes, pulling Thanatos into a sloppy kiss as the white-hot heat of his spend jolts Thanatos ever-slightly back to himself.

When Zagreus pulls out, the only thing that Thanatos can feel through the lingering rush of his pleasure and his immeasurable exhaustion is Zagreus’s cum leaking from his sore, sloppy hole. It’s the only thing that allows Thanatos to confirm that he’s still got a body at all.

“Thank you,” Zagreus murmurs breathlessly, kissing Thanatos once on the lips, gently. He is a beautiful sight, dark hair plastered against his forehead, laurels askew, broad planes of his body glistening with sweat. It’s almost enough to make Thanatos want to go a second time, not that his exhausted body will let him do much more than nod.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Thanatos jokes, deadpan, and Zagreus huffs out a breathless little laugh as he grabs a soft cloth from—somewhere. With all the changes in the last few seasons, Zagreus _still_ hasn’t learned to keep his chambers tidy. He wets the cloth with waters from his scrying pool and begins to clean Thanatos up, his touch gentle along Thanatos’s bruised hips and spent hole.

They will share in a bath later, perhaps even taking an opportunity to have another go-about in the House’s public bathing chambers. But for now, Zagreus simply places the filthy cloth to the side and sidles up next to Thanatos, looking at him like it was he, and not the Mother Night, who'd hung the stars.

“I love you, Thanatos,” he says, and despite his newfound bulk, despite all the changes and growing pains the both of them experienced in the last few seasons, centuries, millennia, this is familiar. This is home.

Thanatos manages to angle himself even closer, pillowing his head against the newfound swell of Zagreus’s pecs. They are gods, immortals, destined to live until the very end of time. But there is still something primally comforting in hearing Zagreus’s heart beat strong and steady in his chest.

“I love you, too, my prince,” Thanatos replies, and though he does not say it, the _all of you, every version of you,_ echoes throughout his tender words. 

\---

They take ample advantage of Zagreus’s new body between one season and the next. It’s almost enough to carry Thanatos through Zagreus’s absence, once his next visit to Olympus comes around.

Thanatos tries not to be too sad about it. But no matter how many times Zagreus leaves, no matter how many times he returns, the God of Gentle Death won’t get used to the emptiness of the Underworld without its prince.

\---

After a particularly-grim day on the surface, Thanatos makes his way back to the Underworld, missing his beloved, the equal and opposite to his own dominion, ever more because of the day’s hardships.

“Hello, Thanatos!” someone greets him, and Thanatos nearly waves it off in his moodiness, until he realizes whose voice it is.

“Lady Persephone,” Thanatos says, surprise coloring his expression. “I—my deepest apologies. I didn’t mean to miss you both coming home.”

“No worries, dear. I should be the one apologizing, really. It’s my own mother who’s led you have such a very busy job lately, after all,” says the queen, true warmth overflowing from her words. “But that’s not here nor there now. Hang up your troubles for a while, will you? Zagreus is waiting for you in his chambers.”

Thanatos barely manages a quick _thank you_ before making his way to the Prince’s chambers, heart fluttering excitedly in his chest as he does.

“Zagreus,” says Thanatos, the moment he crosses the threshold into Zagreus’s space. 

“Hi, Than,” his beloved says, sitting on the bed and looking—small.

Or, not _small._ Not when even before his growth spurt, he was handsome and strong, body built from long hours training under the _Greatest of the Greeks_. Rather, Zagreus seems to have reverted back to his pre-Olympus size.

Part of him should have been disappointed, crushed at what may have meant his beloved’s backsliding, what may have meant negative change. But instead, Thanatos feels nothing but an overwhelming sense of fondness, a love that comes with familiarity, with _knowing._

“ _Oh_ ,” Thanatos says softly, and he falls into his prince’s lap, even still. “Zagreus.”

“They, uh. They taught me how to shape my countenance,” Zagreus says, looking a little bit shy, as he does. He wraps familiar arms around Thanatos’s waist, and there is a comfort in that gesture that Thanatos didn’t realize he missed. “So—here I am.” 

“Why did you choose this form?” Thanatos asks, looking _down_ at Zagreus for the first time in a long time. _Why did you choose this size?_ goes unspoken, but the both of them know it to linger unasked, but in need of being answered, all the same. 

“Well, I—” Zagreus starts, “I, uh. As much as I liked being bigger, I really—I really missed the feeling of being able to line up perfectly alongside you.”

“Zagreus—” Thanatos starts. He wants to pour his soul out before Zagreus. He wants to lay his heart down at his prince’s feet. But sudden expressions of adoration are not exactly Thanatos’s strong suit, so before he can ruin the moment with any miscalculated words, he instead moves, pulling Zagreus into a kiss. It’s a soft kiss, a chaste kiss, a kiss that carries within it all the feelings of _return._ When Zagreus pulls away, he is smiling up at Thanatos, beaming brighter than the surface-world’s too-bright sky.

“So you’re not mad, then?” Zagreus asks, tentatively. Thanatos shakes his head.

“No. Surprised, but not mad,” Thanatos says. And even if he were, what kind of lover would he be, being so callous as to become angered at something so shallow as a change in countenance? “Are you sticking with this form, then?”

Zagreus shrugs. “For now. Maybe I’ll change my mind later, but I—I _really_ missed being able to slot up against you like this. I mean, I think I’ll _have_ to go back to my full height when I’m on Olympus just for the convenience of it, because _everything_ is built for a much larger set of gods, but that’s it. Olympian Zagreus stays on Olympus. I think—for now, at least—Thanatos-sized Zagreus is the real me.”

Thanatos smiles at that, his heart welling with a tenderness that he is not well-known for. Maybe Zagreus is rubbing off on him. Perhaps even more so, because even with that tender admission of love, Thanatos can’t help but tease. 

“And what if I _want_ Olympian Zagreus sometimes, then? Did you think about that?” he asks, dropping his voice low, pressing his palm to Zagreus’s chest.

Zagreus laughs, and in a blink, he shifts, and suddenly, Thanatos finds himself straddling a much broader lap, comfortably seated on much thicker thighs.

“Oh—” Thanatos whimpers, cock twitching beneath his chiton and feeling that odd, mortal feeling of _breathlessness_ once more.

“This work for us, then?” Zagreus asks, slotting his big hands against Thanatos’s waist.

“Yes,” Thanatos murmurs with a wry, hungry sort of smile, picking up on the loaded promise, on the danger, underlying Zagreus’s voice. “This works _just fine._ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> someone: kinda wild how the fists of malphon are huge on zagreus but they’re just like, regular gloves on the olympian gods  
> me: hahaha what if as zagreus comes into his godhood, he gets bigger  
> me:  
> me:  
> me: [breaks out into a cold sweat]  
> me: wait— 
> 
> you can find me chained to a cliff face & pecked at by vultures for my hubris and/or horny crimes [here](https://twitter.com/aka_spacedog)


End file.
